The Retrograde Ruse
by pinetree13
Summary: Missy steps into the TARDIS with apparently no recollection of who she is or what she's done. While the Doctor tries to decide whether or not to trust her, she has her own devious plans to attend to. "Giving him an army wasn't the only way to prove to him that they were the same." (Spoilers for Death in Heaven/Dark Water)
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first attempt at writing Twissy, but hopefully not my last. I just love their dynamic. Rated T for later chapters (which are already written).**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, unfortunately.**

The Doctor and Clara stumbled into the TARDIS, breathless, yet they didn't stop running until they reached the console. Hastily, the Doctor punched in coordinates before pulling the lever that would take them away from the Sontarans that had been pursuing them.

"Right," Clara managed to sputter between breaths. "Remind me never to question the customs of Sontar again."

The Doctor leaned against the console to steady himself. "That seems like something that should have been obvious," he glared.

Still, Clara couldn't help but smile. She knew the Doctor loved adventure as much as she did, and all the running and hiding and escaping were just perks that came with the job.

"Well," she began, "I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted after all that. I'll see you in the morning." At this, she turned and began to head toward her room in the TARDIS.

The Doctor muttered some parting words, but was much more focused on making the proper adjustments to ensure that their location wouldn't change overnight. Having just pulled the final lever, he was about to retire to his room as well, when a sudden noise stopped him dead in his tracks.

Clara must have heard the sound too, as she now rushed back into the console room, confusion evident on her face. "Was that a knock?"

He wasn't entirely sure how to answer. The noise had, in fact, sounded like someone had knocked on the door—a quick, four knock pattern—yet, he knew this to be impossible. "Y-yes?" he answered, drawing out the word so that it portrayed just how unsure he actually was.

"I thought you usually park somewhere in the middle of space during the night."

"I do… and we are."

By this point, all eyes were glued to the doors, as if waiting for something to force entry. It wouldn't have been the first impossible thing to happen that day. They stood there for several moments, simply watching and listening. However, it was Clara who eventually broke the silence.

"Doctor, don't you think you should answer it?"

"What, why me? Why don't you go answer it?"

She shrugged. "Well, for one thing, it is _your_ TARDIS."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed. She had a point. "Fine, but just… prepare yourself. Anything that's out there could be very dangerous. And don't say I didn't warn you."

Slowly, he edged his way to the door, approaching it as if it held some wild animal. When he was close enough to touch it, he carefully undid the latch and pushed it open.

The first thing to hit him was shock. He had expected to see the vast expanse of space, not another TARDIS parked alongside his, so close that you could easily step from one to the other.

The second thing to hit him was pure fear, because the woman standing in front of him was none other than the Mistress. She looked exactly as she had the last time he'd seen her, in the graveyard: Victorian dress, purple jacket, hair piled atop her head. This time, however, she seemed to be missing the hat and umbrella. Her expression held that same crooked smile, but there was something different about it; something was… off. Her eyes didn't betray any devious intent or evil plans. They were wide and bright, clearer than he had ever seen them.

"Hello!" she said, stepping into his TARDIS and closing the door.

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but Clara beat him to it. "No. No, no, _no!_ Doctor, the last time we saw her, I told you to get rid of her. That woman—that _monster_ —shouldn't be alive! I don't know how she can be here or why, but Danny's blood is on her hands, and right now, I don't give a damn about your moral code."

Missy's face, rather than showing mock joy, was a mask of confusion and—was it possible?—pain. "I-I'm sorry, have we met?"

Clara looked at her in shock. "Are you serious?" she scoffed.

However, when Missy simply nodded, Clara found herself unable to speak. There were so many things she wanted to say to this woman, but now they all fought for her attention at once, forming a jumble of emotion in her mind.

It was the Doctor's turn to speak up. "She's right," he said, indicating Clara. "I don't care who you are, you've killed millions of people, whole planets!" Now, his voice got dangerously low, and his words came out as a growl. "And I don't play games when it comes to one planet in particular. You knew those coordinates to Gallifrey were false, and you sent me there anyway. It is very, very dangerous for you to be standing this close to me now."

Missy's expression didn't falter for one second. She looked more like a confused child than the Queen of Evil. "Gallifrey? I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

The Doctor, stunned as he was, found that he was only able to say one thing: "What?"

"I don't know what either of you mean. The only thing I remember is waking up in that machine," she said, pointing to the door, where her TARDIS was probably still parked. "I don't know how I got there or where I came from, but I pulled the lever and it brought me here."

Clara rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh, give me a –"

"Hold on," the Doctor cut her off, holding up one hand and never taking his eyes off Missy. "You say you don't remember anything. Do you know who you are?" His tone wasn't quite trusting, as he knew better than to fall for any of Missy's tricks. Still, he had to be sure.

She shook her head 'no,' but then paused for a moment, obviously concentrating very hard on something. "Am I the Doctor?" she asked earnestly. "For some reason, that name keeps repeating itself over and over in my head: Doctor, Doctor, Doctor."

The Doctor seemed to relax slightly at this, finding it almost humorous. "No," he sighed. "No, that's me. I'm the Doctor. Your name is –" Here, he tripped up, unsure of how to answer. If she truly didn't remember who she was, then he wouldn't be the one to tell her that she was a power-hungry psychopath who liked to pretend she was Master of the universe. Finally, he settled on, "Your name is Missy."

"Missy," she said, her eyes brightening at the sound of her own name. "I like that. Is it short for anything?"

"No," the Doctor answered, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Just Missy."

From behind him, Clara was beginning to get restless. "Doctor, I meant what I said about getting rid of her."

Now, he turned towards her, stepping close enough that Missy couldn't clearly hear their conversation. "What am I supposed to do, just throw her back into her TARDIS and fly away?"

"That would be a start, yeah."

"Clara, I can't do that. It's possible she might have amnesia. I'm not going to abandon her if she needs my help."

"And what's the alternative? Letting her kill you?"

"She won't kill me if she can't even remember who I am, who _she_ is."

"Okay," Clara said, folding her arms in defiance. "Look me in the eye and tell me that you know this isn't a trick, that she's not dangerous."

The Doctor's shoulders sank. "I can't."

"Well then," she said, taking his arm and leading him up the stairs to the console, "until you can, drop me off at home. If you decide to get rid of this maniac, you know where to find me."

Reluctantly, he did as she commanded. And after he'd dematerialized from in front of her home, he turned to Missy. "Alright, it's just you and me." His voice was gentle, but dark, as he was still uneasy about her current situation. "It's just Koschei and Thete. You can tell me the truth."

"I already told you," she sighed in exasperation. "I don't remember anything before coming here."

He eyed her suspiciously. "But you remembered my name?"

"Yes." She said the word with awe, as if it impressed even her. "You must have been very important to me." At this, she stepped closer to him, until only a few inches separated them.

The Doctor cleared his throat, trying not to fall victim to the soft blue eyes that stared up at him in wonder. "I'm sure I was, in a manner of speaking." His voice was low, practically a whisper.

He wanted so badly to reach out and touch her, to cup her face in his hands and kiss her ever so gently, just as he had in the graveyard. He wanted to pull her into his arms and envelop her in warmth, promising that everything would be okay, that he would fix her. She was his oldest and closest friend, and he would always fix her. However, a little voice in some far corner of his mind was holding him back. Instead, he settled for simply taking her hand in his and rubbing slow, reassuring circles into her soft skin.

Suddenly, Missy's eyes began to flutter, and she collapsed into him. "Missy? Missy, are you okay?" the Doctor called urgently, laying her on the floor to examine her. A quick check of her vital signs told him that she was completely fine, only sleeping. He supposed that the shock of this whole situation must have exhausted her.

Carefully, he took her up into his arms and carried her into one of the TARDIS's many spare rooms, where he laid her gently on the bed. After removing her jacket and boots, he pulled the covers up around her, nice and snug. Maybe it was the way she looked so peaceful now, or maybe he was actually starting to trust her, but for whatever reason, he placed a soft kiss to her forehead before turning to leave the room.

"Sleep well," he whispered, closing the door.

* * *

Missy couldn't help but smile to herself after she heard the Doctor leave. So far, it had all been too easy for her. Fake amnesia, check. Gain entrance to the TARDIS, check. Earn the Doctor's trust, well, she was working on it. And at this rate, it would only be a matter of time. After all, she knew he could never resist a cry for help. That was his weakness. No matter how many people she killed or how many planets she destroyed, all she had to do was ask for his help, and he would come running.

Not that she had a problem with that. In fact, she rather enjoyed it, because deep down, they were still the same children who had chased each other through the red fields of Gallifrey. And she was determined to get her friend back. Giving him an army wasn't the only way to prove to him that they were the same. Now she would show him once and for all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/followed/favorited this story!**

The Doctor awoke with a jolt, startled by a loud groan made by the TARDIS. _That can't be good,_ he thought. Immediately, he sprang out of bed and rushed to Missy's room, and, upon finding it empty, cursed himself under his breath for ever trusting that woman in the first place.

Thinking logically, he decided that the best thing to do now would be to check the console room to see if it had sustained any damage. However, once he got there, he found that it looked exactly the same as he'd left it the night before. So what had caused the TARDIS to complain?

Slowly, he became aware of a noise coming from one of the corridors. It was a low rustling, as if someone was rifling through a cabinet or closet, trying to find something. He wasn't sure what that something was, but he was quite certain that any number of objects he had hidden away could potentially be very dangerous. So, wasting no time, he ran toward the source of the noise.

What he found was… unexpected. The noise was not coming from any hidden closet or long-forgotten armory, but from the kitchen. He now knew that there was probably nothing to be afraid of, yet he still peered in cautiously before entering.

Inside, Missy was searching through one of the many cabinets, obviously looking for something to eat. "What are you doing?" the Doctor asked. It was a rather redundant question, but he really just wanted to get her attention.

Much to the Doctor's dismay, she did not jump at the sound of his voice; obviously, he hadn't been as discreet as he'd thought. "I was hungry," she answered, without looking up from her occupation. "I was just trying to find something to eat, but your box doesn't seem to like me very much."

"That's because she remembers the Paradox Machine," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," he answered quickly. "Why don't you just tell me what you want? Then I can get it for you."

"That would be fantastic –" At this point, she turned to look at him.

The Doctor, in his haste to find the problem, hadn't paid any attention to what he was wearing. But now, he looked down at his TARDIS blue boxers and white t-shirt, his cheeks getting redder by the second.

"I-I'll go change first," he sputtered out, turning to leave.

"No, no, it's fine!" Missy called, waving her hand dismissively. "I think you look lovely."

This little comment didn't help the Doctor's complexion. However, he reluctantly walked back into the kitchen. "Okay, what do you want?" His voice wasn't exactly cold, but it certainly wasn't friendly either. He still didn't know how much he could trust her.

"Surprise me," she answered, taking a seat at the table.

The Doctor pulled out eggs, bacon, and a frying pan. For several minutes, the only sound in the room was the sizzle of grease as he cooked. Then, he served up two plates, handing one to Missy and taking a seat across from her.

He tried not to look at her as they ate, yet her eyes seemed to be constantly glued to him. She watched his every move with the fascination of a young child. The Doctor had known her long enough not to be completely uncomfortable with this, but he still couldn't shake the sensation that he was merely prey being stalked by a fearsome predator.

"What are we doing today?" Missy finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Well, _I_ am going to change, and then _we_ are going to have a nice long chat in the library."

"About what?"

"You'll see." He tried to keep this as cryptic as possible. His plan was to probe her mind—both literally and metaphorically—in order to see whether or not she was telling the truth about this whole amnesia ordeal.

As he walked to his room, he found that she followed him like a lost puppy, keeping no more than two meters between them at all times. In fact, he even had to close the door in her face to keep her from following him while he changed. It might have actually been cute if the lost puppy hadn't been guilty of genocide.

Finally, they entered the library. The Doctor sat on one end of his favorite reading couch and motioned for her to sit at the other end. Of course, she decided that she'd rather sit as close to him as possible instead. He shifted uncomfortably, but nevertheless began his interrogation.

"So, you said that your first memory is waking up in your TARDIS." She nodded. "How did you know to pull the lever?"

Her eyes became unfocused now, as if she was trying to recall the exact moment. "I don't know. It just sort of felt… natural, like that's what I was supposed to do."

He couldn't deny that. After all, she'd probably pulled that lever so many times that it was instinct to her now. "And then you knocked on my door." Another nod. "Why four knocks?" At this, she just tilted her head slightly, looking at him in confusion. "When you knocked on my door, it was four quick knocks. Why that particular pattern?"

"I-I don't know," she stammered. "Is that important?"

"Do you hear the drums?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The drums, do you still hear them beating in your head?"

She looked almost startled at this. "What drums?" This question was all the answer he required. Surely, even if this was a trick, she would have mentioned the drums if they were still there, still constantly beating out their signal.

"Never mind," he sighed. "It's not important." He decided to take a new approach. "Does the name 'Koschei' mean anything to you?"

He checked for any change in her expression, but there was none. "No. Should it?"

He thought about lying to her, about telling her that the name meant nothing, just an empty word. But he couldn't bring himself to do that. "Yes." His tone was soft and low.

For a long time after that, they just sat in silence, each watching the other for their reaction. The Doctor searched Missy's eyes for any sign of his friend, the one whose lifeless body he'd once held in his arms. He looked for traces of that person who would rather die than travel the universe with him. Because even if she was evil, she was still the closest thing he had to family.

As he examined her closely, he took this opportunity to simultaneously reach out to her telepathically. If she really had amnesia, perhaps it would hinder her telepathic abilities. The Master had always been very gifted in this regard, but maybe now her mental walls would relent.

The Doctor, far less skilled than his colleague, allowed the tendrils of his mind to seep out, only to be denied entrance to her thoughts and memories. Evidently, her affliction, whether real or feigned, did not hinder her telepathic performance in any way. Still, he knew enough about telepathy to know that, even if he couldn't access her mind, she should be able to feel his attempts to gain entry.

He also knew that physical contact enhanced his ability to reach out telepathically. So, he gently cupped her head in his hands, resting his forehead against hers as he tried again. However, he met with the same outcome. Her mental barriers were just too strong.

Only now did he happen to glance up. Missy's eyes had never left his, even at this short distance. Her cold blue eyes cut through him like a knife, not accusatory, but rather, inquisitive and somehow seductive. He gulped. Her lips were now dangerously close to his. It would have been so easy just to close the gap. Luckily, though, he didn't have to; for in the same instant that he had thought about it, she pressed her lips to his, a soft, chaste offering that he gratefully accepted.

When they broke apart, the Doctor lingered for a moment, unsure of what to do next. However, at that moment, he happened to glance up at the library clock, which gave the relative internal time aboard the TARDIS. What had seemed like mere minutes had actually been _hours_. He did have a tendency to lose track of time when using telepathy.

"Alright," he said more gently than he had addressed her in the past, "you probably need to get your rest now. You know where your room is, and you can help yourself to anything in the kitchen, just don't make a mess."

His tone may have been soft, but he certainly was not going to coddle her. He knew Missy could take care of herself, even if she only had her instincts to rely on. It wasn't his job to hold her hand through every step of her life.

With that, he retreated to his own room. He knew full well that Time Lords needed much less sleep than humans, but he'd picked up a few habits over the years, including sleeping nearly every night, if only for an hour or two. He closed the door and fell into his bed, trying to make sense of everything he'd discovered that day.

* * *

Missy pressed her ear to the Doctor's bedroom door. There was no movement, no sound other than his slow, even breathing. _Perfect,_ she thought. In a manner that can only be described as gleeful, she skipped to the console room, quietly humming to herself.

 _First things first._ She entered the TARDIS's destination programming, redirecting the randomizer to instead send them to a destination of her choosing, if ever the Doctor decided to use that setting. She typed in the desired coordinates, which, upon pressing the "random destination" button, would send them to a small planet in the Sixth Galaxy.

 _Now for the fun part._ She twirled over to the door, opening it to find that her TARDIS was still there, awaiting her return. Just as she'd suspected, the Doctor had parked in the same spot as the night before, again making this all too easy for her.

This little plan of hers would undoubtedly take a bit of preparation, but to her, it would be worth it just to see the Doctor squirm. She couldn't help but laugh at how perfectly her scheme was falling into place. Without further ado, she stepped into her own ship, certain that she could be gone hours, yet return only five minutes after she had left. And the best part was that the Doctor would never know.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day began with relative normalcy for the Doctor—well, as normal as it can get with Missy onboard. He had given up on trying to get information from her, as that had proved to be a dead end. And telepathy was obviously out of the question, so now he sat in his favorite armchair, leafing through any book that may contain clues to helping her.

Missy, on the other hand, was not so content to just sit in silence. With a dramatic sigh, she paced around the console, lightly brushing her hands across various buttons and switches. For a moment, the Doctor glanced up, just to be sure she wasn't actually playing with the settings. Upon assuring himself that she hadn't changed anything, he went back to his reading.

However, Missy would not be ignored so easily. Again, she gave an exaggerated sigh, louder this time, so that the Doctor would pay her some attention.

"Did you need something?" he asked without looking at her.

"Me? Oh no, I'm just a bit _restless_ , that's all." She stressed the word, knowing it would have an effect.

Now the Doctor was alert. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that when Missy got restless, whole planets would suffer. And whether or not she had amnesia, he still didn't like the idea of her standing so close to the TARDIS controls.

"Alright, fine," he sighed, laying his book atop a large pile of others. "What exactly do you want to do?"

"Well, from what I've seen, this machine can go anywhere, right?"

The Doctor nodded cautiously, a suspicious look crossing his face.

"Let's go somewhere _amazing._ Doesn't matter where, anywhere will do."

He considered this for a moment. He thought that maybe this was just a ploy to escape, but then again, that wouldn't make any sense. After all, _she_ was the one who had come to _him._ If she was, in fact, in her right mind, then there were perhaps a thousand different ways she could have escaped by now.

His next thought was that this could be a trap. The only problem with that logic was that she had said that "anywhere will do." How could she have set a trap if she didn't even know the destination?

This all still seemed rather suspicious to the Doctor, but he couldn't come up with a single substantial reason why he shouldn't take her somewhere. Perhaps this was just further proof that she was actually telling the truth.

Finally, he said, "Well then, next stop anywhere." At that, he pushed the "random destination" button, twirled around the console a few times to press various switches, and then pulled the lever to land.

Missy had to try hard to keep the devious smile from her face. The Doctor was just too predictable sometimes.

Just as she had planned, the TARDIS—unbeknownst to the Doctor—had not landed in a truly random destination; rather, it had locked on to the coordinates she'd set the night before, sending them to a small planet in the Sixth Galaxy, where her trap was ready and waiting.

The two Time Lords (or rather, Time Lord and Lady) stepped outside, onto the dusty landscape. In the sky, a fairly large sun shone through the purple-tinted atmosphere, casting a beautiful hazy glow over the planet. Not far away, a large village sat peacefully by the bank of a shimmering silver lake.

For a moment, everything was calm. And while the Doctor began to head in the direction of the village (like the typical explorer he was), Missy began her mental countdown: _three… two… one…_

Suddenly, a Dalek battleship burst through the atmosphere and began to rain hellfire down on the village below. The Doctor jumped back, horrified. Missy, on the other hand, only smiled to herself. She half expected him to just stand there in shock as the villagers died screaming before his eyes.

However, that wasn't his style. After all, he was the Doctor, the man who had to save everyone. Now, he turned to her. "Come on." He began moving toward the village.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Come on!"

He grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him. Together, they ran closer and closer to the destruction. Missy couldn't help but note the parallel to their childhood. It was strange how much had changed. In one moment, they were young boys, running through the red fields of Gallifrey, not a care in the world; in the next, they were running headfirst into a trap that she had set. Set for her closest friend, her oldest enemy, the man she would just as soon kiss as kill.

 _No, not kill_. Although she always pretended she could, some dark, secluded part of her mind told her that she could never truly kill the Doctor. After all, what would she be without him?

Finally, they reached the outskirts of the village. By this point, most houses had already been reduced to piles of smoking ash, but there were still people running around, desperately trying to find cover. And of course, the Daleks wouldn't stop until these outliers were dead.

The Doctor would have run into the village itself; he would have attempted to save as many people as he could, yet, something made him stop. He stared down at a round metal contraption on the ground, already calculating his next move.

"What is it?" Missy asked, although she already knew the answer, given that she had placed it there herself.

"It's a destructor beam," the Doctor answered solemnly. "One blast from this would destroy the Dalek ship."

"So what are you waiting for?"

The expression on the Doctor's face was exactly what she had hoped to see, that twisted mask of indecision and regret. Missy knew he was weighing his options carefully.

"Missy, I can't just kill all those Daleks."

"Why not?" She had to make a conscious effort to be sure that this sounded like a genuine question, rather than a dare.

"I have enough blood on my hands, and we've only just walked into this situation. We shouldn't even _be_ here."

"So you're just going to let all these innocent people die?"

She could see that he was falling for the bait, and when he answered her, his tone was angry, frustrated. "What choice do I have?"

Now, she glanced down at the destructor beam, reminding him that there was always another option. "Kill the Daleks, save the people."

For a moment, he seemed to consider this closely. After all, these were _Daleks_ , and if there was one race he hated more than any in the universe, it was them. He blamed them for the loss of Gallifrey almost as much as he blamed himself, and almost as much as he blamed Missy for lying to him about its new location.

Every time his friends died, the Daleks survived, practically unscathed. Every time he lost, they won. Now was his chance to set the record straight, to remind them of who he was. He could wipe out this battleship easily, in a matter of seconds….

But that would make him a killer, no better than the Master.

All of a sudden, his eyes widened with realization. "I know what this is."

Missy kept up her act, as she was sure that the Doctor couldn't possibly know that she was behind all of this. "What is it?"

"It's a trap."

Still, she maintained her confused façade. "What?"

"It's a trap," he repeated, excitement rising in his voice. Obviously, he'd formulated a plan. "I don't know who set it for me, but they seem to have forgotten one thing."

"And what's that?"

He pulled his screwdriver from his pocket. "Never put me in a trap."

With that, he sonicked the destructor beam, causing it to let out a low beeping noise as its power drained. However, he stopped before it was completely dead, then pressed his foot onto the big red button that activated it. Just as he'd planned, the beam that shot out from the machine was much weaker than it was originally intended to be, causing the damage to be much less severe. In fact, there was only enough power in it to take out the Dalek weapons systems, rendering them powerless.

To Missy's dismay, the Daleks retreated, alive, but unarmed. It was doubtful that they would return, given that they had all but obliterated the population anyway. The remaining villagers, probably still wary about the attack, stayed in their homes, but breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well done!" Missy cheered with congratulation. Needless to say, her joy was only superficial. All this meant for her was that she now had to come up with a Plan B.

Still, since her Plan A had failed, she thought she at least deserved to have a bit of fun. So, with excitement that would have seemed real to any onlooker, she threw her arms around the Doctor's neck and kissed him forcefully.

He pulled back, recovering from the shock of it, but still riding the adrenaline that came with saving people and outsmarting someone.

He muttered something that sounded like a statement of thanks, before gently untwining himself from Missy. After clearing his throat, he said, "We should probably check the damage."

She agreed—with silent, undetectable disgust—and the two of them spent the rest of the day searching through the rubble to find and help survivors. Well, the Doctor helped them. Missy just sort of rummaged through piles of debris that she could easily tell were empty.

At the end of the day, they said their goodbyes and returned to the TARDIS once again.

The Doctor had seemed genial enough throughout the day, but as soon as the doors closed behind them, he turned to Missy, suspicion written all over his face. "Whoever set that trap knew I was coming. Any idea of who that could be?"

Missy shrugged as if she didn't understand what he was implying.

"Don't play games with me," he growled, stepping closer. "Look me in the eye and tell me it wasn't you."

Instead of actually doing this, she decided on appealing to his reason. "How could I have done it? I've been with you almost all the time for days now."

"You could have set it up before you came here."

She still had one trump card left to play. "But how would I have known where we were going? You said the destination was random."

Of course, the Doctor knew this. He'd considered it before ever agreeing to go anywhere in the first place. She had a point. And since there was nothing actually linking Missy to this, he had to take her word for it.

"Okay," he sighed. "Okay, you're right, I'm sorry." He ran one hand over his tired features. "This whole situation is just very frustrating, that's all."

She blinked up at him with her big blue eyes, the picture of innocence. "What do you mean?"

"Well, my closest friend—who just _happens_ to be evil—shows up without warning, claiming to have some sort of amnesia. Then, the first planet we land on _happens_ to have a trap conveniently placed for me to fall into. You can't blame me for being a little suspicious."

"Closest friend?" she said, singling out this phrase from all the others. "Is that what I was to you?" Part of her was just acting out the role she'd been playing, but part of her simply longed to hear him say what she needed to hear. She needed know that, after all the dust had settled, after everything they'd gone through, he still cared for her.

"Something like that," he said, his eyes never leaving hers.

And in that moment, he almost wished that she was faking. For one split second, all he wanted was his friend back, _truly_ back. He carelessly thought that maybe all the trouble that followed in her wake would be worth it, if only he could talk to her earnestly once again, just like they had so many times before. He was a lonely old man, and she was the one person who never seemed to be able to abandon him.

But just as quickly as these thoughts had come, they vanished. He knew what she was capable of, and for now, he was just content to be able to travel with her, a fate she had once detested.

And if he was in a different regeneration, he might have reached out and pulled her into a hug right then, to show her that he _did_ care. But hugging was something he just didn't do anymore, so instead, he said, "It's getting late. I'll see you tomorrow." It wasn't the most eloquent parting speech, but it was softer than his usual tone.

With that, he left for his room, leaving Missy alone with the controls. That in itself was an act of trust, one that she would most gratefully use to her advantage.

* * *

The first step, of course, was to undo her meddling from the night before. After all, the Doctor would undoubtedly be suspicious if his "random destination" button took him to the same place every time.

Next, she had to decide on what her new plan was. Luckily, all the Doctor's talk of suspicion and his obvious lack of trust had given her an idea. If she could just remind him of how much damage she had caused, how many people her endeavors had killed, perhaps she could get him to snap. Surely, lashing out at an "innocent" person would be enough to show him that they were more alike than not.

Therefore, new plan in mind, she switched on the stabilizers, silenced the brakes, and landed the TARDIS in one place the Doctor was probably trying to forget: the graveyard. The very place where Danny had taken his final stand, where the corpses of the dead had stood in their shiny new armor, where he had dared to think that he might have actually been able to kill her. One look at this place would make everything she'd done come flooding back to the forefront of his mind.

But this was something he had to experience firsthand. If he knew that they were in the graveyard, he would fly away as quickly as he possibly could. _Always a step ahead of you,_ she thought with a smile as she disabled the scanner.

With a quiet laugh and a twirl, she practically floated back to her room to await the next day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks again to everyone reading!**

"Missy!" The Doctor barged into her room the next morning, flinging open the door in a confused panic.

Missy—who hadn't actually slept at all—sat up gradually, as if just waking from a stupor. "What is it?" she grumbled.

"Did you hear the TARDIS land during the night?"

She pretended to think about it for a moment before answering. "Not that I can remember. Why, where are we?"

"I don't know for sure. For some reason, the scanner's not working. All I know is that we're somewhere on Earth, twenty-first century."

For the first time since he'd entered the room, he now suddenly seemed to notice that Missy was still wearing her purple nightgown. His immediate thought was, _Now we're even_ , but once he got past the childish one-upmanship, he cleared his throat and began to back away. "Get dressed and meet me in the console room."

"It's a date," she called after him, unable to help herself.

Once they were both properly attired, they met up as planned.

"Are we going exploring?" she asked, knowing he could never resist that temptation.

"I don't know if we have much choice," the Doctor answered as he fiddled with the scanner. "I'm not sure what caused us to land here, but whatever it is, it can't be good." He walked over to the doors, holding up one hand to stop her. "Let me make sure it's safe first."

Cautiously, he peered outside, and the sight made him freeze on the spot. His expression was petrified terror, with regret hidden just behind the eyes. Outside the TARDIS doors—just as Missy had planned—stood the graveyard where he had last seen her, where he had nearly killed her.

"What's wrong?" Missy asked innocently.

When he didn't answer, she walked over to take a look for herself, though she knew exactly what she would find. "Doesn't look dangerous to me." Her tone might have been mocking if the Doctor was listening close enough, but he was as good as stone, an unmovable fixture.

Seeing that he probably wasn't going to exit any time soon, Missy pushed past him, drifting out into the open air to wander through the headstones. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she called, beckoning for him to follow her.

Now, the Doctor did emerge from the TARDIS, if for no other reason than to make sure that Missy didn't get into any trouble. He followed her wherever she went, constantly taking in the scenery as that fateful day played out over and over again in his head.

In one moment, he saw Cyber-Danny standing there, hurling insults at him as he refused to activate the inhibitor. In the next, he saw Clara pointing her sonic at the man she loved, fully upgrading him, while knowingly losing him forever. Finally, he saw one thing he'd thought he never would: a Cyberman with his arm wrapped around a human, not to kill, not to harm, but to protect.

" _Because love, it's not an emotion. Love is a promise, and he will never hurt her."_

He saw Danny, with the controller around his wrist, flying an army of Cybermen into the sky, burning to save the world.

The Doctor turned away, trying to stop the feelings of guilt and regret from finding him. He could never shake the idea that if he hadn't interfered in Clara's life, maybe, just _maybe_ , she could have been living a happy life with Danny right now. After all, if she'd never lied to him about travelling with the Doctor, there would have been nothing to apologize for later. And without that, maybe she wouldn't have made the phone call that had distracted him just long enough to end it all.

Once the Doctor actually snapped back into reality, he discovered that he had completely lost track of Missy. Immediately, he realized his mistake.

"Missy?" he called desperately, knowing that it was probably no use, that she was probably long gone by now. "Missy!"

However, to his utter amazement, a voice responded from somewhere off to his right, "I'm over here!"

He breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that she hadn't left the graveyard, at least. The last thing he needed right now was the Queen of Evil running loose in a crowded city. As he followed the sound of her voice, he walked past several rows of graves, so many of which were probably empty now, all thanks to him….

 _No_ … not him. _Her._ _She_ was the one who had raised an army from the dead. _She_ was the one who had worn the device that controlled them. _She_ was the one who had done all of that just to get his attention, just to prove that he could easily be like her.

She had told him that it was a gift, and that she needed her friend back. And of course, that was the most heartbreaking thing of all. They had stood within a few feet of each other, yet there were whole chasms between them. He longed to fix these holes, to fill them in and begin again, but sometimes it seemed like an impossible task. He wanted his friend back too, just… not like that, not in the way she had attempted. No one needed to die.

When he finally reached her, she pretended to be looking at one of the gravestones to her left, but all the Doctor could see was that she was standing in the very same place where he had last seen her before she'd stepped into his TARDIS more recently.

This was all too much for him now. He could take everything he'd remembered so far; those were emotions he worked through all the time. But this was different. On this very spot, he had almost killed her, and if he had actually gone through with it, he never would have been able to forgive himself.

Tears began to well in his eyes, warm and stinging. Missy, who had braced herself for an outburst of hatred, was genuinely stunned. But she felt something else too—was it remorse? She had wanted anger, rage, something the Doctor would regret later. She never meant to make him cry.

His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "Did you do this?" he asked, gesturing to indicate their location.

For the first time, she felt her resolve waver, and she wasn't quite sure why. After all, it wasn't the first time she had seen the Doctor cry. She remembered how he had violently wept over her old body, as she (then, he) had died in his arms, refusing to regenerate.

Maybe it was something in the way he looked at her now, as though he saw past her charade. Her first impulse was to tell him the truth, that she had been carefully plotting everything that had happened since she'd set foot on his TARDIS several days ago.

However, she knew she couldn't do that. Not only would it cause her plan to crumble at her feet, but she was also certain that the Doctor would hate her more than he probably already did if she told him that she had just been toying with his emotions.

She decided that her safest bet was to put on a mask of confusion, as she said, "Did I do what?"

The Doctor closed his eyes with a sigh, shaking his head. "Never mind."

And whether it was because he needed to hide his face, or whether it was because he couldn't bear to look at her standing between those tombstones for one more second, he gently wrapped his arms around her.

Missy, needless to say, was shocked for the second time that day. Her arms momentarily lingered awkwardly, as she was unsure of what to do with them. However, she soon decided that an opportunity like this didn't come around very often. The Doctor was offering her a sign of affection—one that she so desperately needed—and she couldn't help but melt into him.

She wrapped her arms around him as well, breathing in the scent of him, the scent of home. Her eyes drifted shut at some point, and if he had checked, he would have known that she'd let her mental guard falter for just a split second, but he was too preoccupied with his own emotions at the moment.

Eventually, though, they had to head back to the TARDIS. This time, they walked hand-in-hand, each using the other as a sort of lifeline. Because if they let go, there was always the possibility that they might drift apart once again.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent in near silence. The Doctor stayed under the console, fixing things that probably didn't need fixing anyway. This was his favorite way of ensuring that he could be alone with his thoughts.

Missy, also trying to work through the events of the day, simply wandered around the TARDIS, searching for rooms that were purposely hidden from her in the first place. She did end up finding one or two, but she had no use for their contents now. This was a mission of solidarity, not violence.

As she walked, she came up with a single last-ditch plan to ensnare the Doctor. If this didn't work, she figured she might as well just give up.

So, later on, after the Doctor had retired to his room for the night, Missy crept back to the console room, stealthily landing them just as she had the night before. Only, this time, they were parked right in front of Clara's house, one day after he had dropped her off.

She considered, for a moment, that this plan was nowhere near as complex as her usual schemes were, but after two unsuccessful attempts to make the Doctor betray himself, she was starting to think that maybe he never would, maybe she was just wasting her time.

But she wasn't done yet. She wouldn't go down without a fight.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, bright and early, Clara came barreling through the TARDIS doors excitedly. "Doctor?" she called, already waiting by the console, practically bouncing with anticipation. "You came back early. I assume that means she's gone, yeah?"

However, the Doctor didn't hear her. He had spent most of the night in the library, paging through book after book of Gallifreyan history, just trying to reacquaint himself with home. If there was one thing that Missy's reappearance had made all too clear, it was the fact that he had been working very hard to forget everything he'd lost, even though it was now more attainable than ever.

Still, there was one person who did hear Clara's voice.

"Hello, dear," Missy smiled as she entered the console room.

Clara tensed up immediately, preparing herself for whatever she might need to do. "Why are you still here?"

"Oh, the Doctor didn't tell you?" she mocked. "He _cordially_ invited me to travel with you, see the universe. Won't that be fun?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm, exposing her true self. She didn't need to hide from Clara, after all; this was just another part of the plan.

"No… no, the Doctor wouldn't do something like that." She didn't sound too sure.

"Wouldn't he?" At this, Missy began to circle Clara like a buzzard eying its meal. "I'm the Doctor's oldest friend, his _closest_ friend, and whether or not he's willing to admit it, he _loves_ me. I chose you for the Doctor because you were a perfect fit, but you're still just another Earth girl."

"I was right!" Clara spat. "I knew you didn't have amnesia."

"And what are you going to do about it? Tell the Doctor? Who do you think he's going to believe, _hm?_ "

Now, Clara began to glance around, searching for the Doctor. "Where is he? What have you done with him?"

Missy simply laughed. "Who, me? _I_ haven't done anything with him. He's perfectly safe."

"Oh yeah? Prove it."

"Fine," Missy sighed, more out of boredom than resignation. "Right this way."

With an overdramatic sweep of her arm, she gestured for Clara to follow her. They walked down the TARDIS corridor that led to the library, where the Doctor still sat on his favorite couch, poring over the stories he had grown up learning.

"Doctor, you have a visitor," Missy called, catching his attention.

He looked up, not exactly knowing what to expect. He'd still assumed that they were in deep space, parked in a stationary position.

"Clara?" he asked, confused. "How did you get here?"

"It was quite simple, actually," she began, rivalling Missy's sarcasm. "I just saw a blue box and walked through the doors."

"We landed?"

It was all Missy could do to keep from rolling her eyes. He could be so oblivious sometimes.

"Well, you must have, or I wouldn't be here," Clara answered.

The Doctor rose from his seat and began pacing back and forth in speculation. "This isn't the first time we've landed without my knowledge. It happened last night too…. _But how?_ " He turned to Missy. "You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with this, would you?"

Missy opened her mouth to speak, but Clara beat her to it. "Of course she does! I don't know what she's planning or why, but it's obvious she's tricking you. She doesn't have amnesia, and she never did. I warned you to get rid of her, but here she is, and these are the consequences."

Her voice had quickened in pace, and even the Doctor—who, admittedly, wasn't the best at reading human emotions—could tell that she was nervous and angry. Angry at Missy for this whole ordeal. Angry at him for disregarding her advice.

Missy jumped in to defend herself. "I think the Doctor would be able to tell you that I can't have had anything to do with landing the TARDIS; I've been in my room all night. Tell her."

The two women turned to the Doctor, daring him to speak. "I… I do know that you were asleep in your room two nights ago…" he began. "But I can't attest to what you were doing last night."

"Aha!" Clara said, pointing an accusatory finger at the Time Lady. "Rule one of pretending to be innocent: always have an alibi."

"Hold on," Missy interjected, holding her hands up. She turned to face the Doctor directly now, pleading with him. "Are you just going to believe her? After all we've been through?"

He knew she was just referring to everything that had happened in the past few days, but now all his memories of her came flooding back. He remembered the first time he'd felt her double heartbeat in this regeneration, the moment he'd discovered that he was not alone anymore. He remembered the "welcome package" kiss in the 3W mausoleum just moments before, when he'd smelled the faint scent of Gallifrey on her, thinking it to be his imagination. He remembered when she fell to her knees amongst the gravestones, practically begging him to join her.

" _I need my friend back."_

"Okay." The answer was simple and cryptic, yet held so much more meaning than he could say.

"'Okay' what?" Clara asked, knowing that she probably wouldn't like the reply.

"Okay, I trust her," he said resolutely, turning to face Clara now.

Her jaw dropped, and—was it possible?—her eyes widened. "You're… you're not serious."

The Doctor took a deep breath, bracing himself for her reaction. There was no foreseeable scenario where this would end well.

"Clara, I know you're just trying to protect me, and I know what you think of Missy."

"Still here," Missy reminded them, as if they'd forgotten.

The Doctor ignored her and continued speaking to Clara. "But now, I need you to trust me. I know what I'm doing. I would never have invited Missy onboard in the first place if I didn't accept the risks."

Clara seemed to consider this for a moment, and even looked over at Missy for reassurance. However, since the Doctor's back was turned to the Mistress, she smiled mischievously at Clara, winking to accentuate her victory.

"I told you the last time, Doctor. It's me or her. And I can see you've made your choice." She stormed from the room angrily, without another word.

"Clara!" the Doctor called, defeated. He glanced over at Missy, who, by this point, was an expert at feigning innocence. Still, whether he trusted the Master or not, Clara was his friend, and he couldn't stand the thought of her being angry with him, so he chased after her.

Missy waited for a while, long enough that the Doctor should have had enough time to catch up with the disappointed Earth girl. Then, she slowly crept to the console room. However, upon finding it empty, she assumed that they must have gone outside to continue their conversation.

Her suspicions were confirmed by the scanner, once she'd gotten it up and running again. And while she couldn't tell what they were saying, it looked as though the Doctor was explaining something, reasoning with her. Gradually, Clara's expression began to change. Initially, she'd been seeping anger, standing with arms crossed. Yet, as the Doctor talked, she softened, a look of understanding making its way to her features.

Missy wondered what he could have been saying. Still, the specifics didn't really matter to her. All she knew was that, whatever it was, it was working. Clara was no longer angry.

The Time Lady stood there seething as she watched her latest plan fall to pieces before her eyes. She needed Clara to be angry, that was the whole point. She needed her to yell at the Doctor, to put him in his place, like she always did. Clara had this way of making him account for the things he did wrong, and that was part of the reason Missy had been so insistent that they stay together in the first place. But if she was now nodding, listening patiently to everything he was saying, then it was all over.

Missy slammed her fist on the console, eliciting a loud groan from the machine (who already didn't like the Master). She uttered a curse in Gallifreyan under her breath as she watched her final plan—her last chance to ensnare the Doctor—crumble at her fingertips, though she had been _so close_ to success.

It wasn't fair. It was like she had been doomed from the start. Once, just _once_ , she wanted the Doctor to see himself for what he really was, to realize that he was no better than her. That's all she was trying to prove. And yet, it was like he was constantly one step ahead of her, unwittingly beating her at every turn.

He acted so high and mighty, as if he wasn't guilty of genocide. Who was _he_ to condemn her? The Oncoming Storm, The Bringer of Darkness, The Predator of the Daleks. The only true difference between them was that he still held on to the notion that he was doing good. But she knew that "good" was relative, depending on who you asked. Surely, the Daleks never saw the Doctor as a hero.

But more than that, she was angry at herself, because no matter how many times she tried to shove this feeling completely out of her head, she couldn't help but admire him. For a man who was so utterly broken inside, it was a miracle that, after all this time, he still managed to hold on to his moral code. He still attempted to find a way to save the day without causing casualties to either side, when he could help it. He still tried to be a good man, even though he accepted that maybe he wasn't.

And the worst part, the absolute _worst_ part, about all of this was that she respected him for it. Although she herself would rather die than gallivant through time and space, saving planets like some sort of self-righteous crusader, she could understand the appeal it had to him. If he needed to save the Earth because it was the closest thing he had to home, then that was fine. Of course, that wouldn't stop her from trying to destroy it, but at least she could see things from his perspective.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the conversation outside seemed to come to an end. Clara nodded and hugged the Doctor, and although he (as usual) didn't hug back, it was obvious that he was pleased with the conclusions they'd reached.

With a much calmer demeanor than she'd had earlier, Clara walked back to her house, leaving the Doctor to enter the TARDIS once again.

However, Missy didn't turn around to look at him. She wasn't sure what to do next. She'd played her final card, and now all that was left was to tell him that she had been lying this whole time.

But she couldn't.

Not now, at least. It didn't feel like the right time. Her hands were shaking, and whether it was from anger or a sudden deluge of a million other emotions, she didn't know. All she knew was that she couldn't let the Doctor see.

"Missy?" he asked as he made his way to the console. "Are you okay?"

She wasn't okay, but there was no way she'd let him know that. So she ran. At first, she hadn't known where she was running; she just wanted to run until her legs gave out beneath her. But the TARDIS knew exactly where she needed to go, and it led her there, just as it always had for the Doctor.

After several minutes of all-out sprinting, she came to a stop before a door that she had seen before, one that felt so inviting now: the Doctor's room. The door was open just a crack, so she pushed it, in order to see the full view.

In the middle sat an ornate bed with TARDIS blue sheets and Circular Gallifreyan inscriptions adorning the wooden surfaces. Bookcases lined the walls, along with a cluttered work desk and a cabinet whose contents hung out from the drawers. Honestly, it was just as she'd expected it to be: the bedroom of an old hermit.

She could hear him roaming the hallways now, searching for her. But she was sure that this was the last place he would ever expect to find her, so she considered herself safe for the moment. Besides, she didn't think the TARDIS would give her position away now, after leading her here in the first place. Despite everything that had happened with the Paradox Machine, the TARDIS still recognized a distressed Time Lord (or Lady) when one was present.

So Missy relaxed into the large, comfy bed, grabbing ahold of the closest book she could reach. It was just some boring Earth book by some boring Earth author, but she wasn't paying much attention to the words anyway. Her eyes simply skimmed the pages, while her mind drifted elsewhere.

* * *

By the time she had finished an entire stack of books, it was late at night. The Doctor had long since stopped calling for her, and had presumably gone to sleep. However, he obviously hadn't been able to find his own room, so where had he gone?

Missy had a hunch.

She closed the book she was holding and threw it atop the pile she'd made on the floor. Then, she walked out into the corridor, looking for the room that had been hers for the past few nights. Luckily, the TARDIS had returned the rooms to their original location, and—just as she'd recalled—her room was merely a few feet away, a bit further down the hall.

Quietly, she tiptoed over to the room before leaning a cautious ear to the door. Inside, she could hear the sounds of sleep drifting from someone who could only be the Doctor, as she'd suspected.

She pushed open the door soundlessly, not a creak audible, and stood before the sleeping Time Lord, trying to muster up the courage to wake him.


	6. Chapter 6

**As promised, here is the reason this story is rated T.**

Why should she be scared? She was the Mistress, after all. She could have whole galaxies falling at her feet in the course of a few hours. So why couldn't she face the Doctor now?

Quietly, she took a few steps closer, walking as gingerly as though the floor was ice, until she stood right beside the bed. Her tongue seemed to be stuck, because every time she tried to talk, no sound came out. Instead, she sat down on the bed, the little jolt causing the Doctor to open his eyes groggily, turning to look at her.

Once he saw who it was, his eyes snapped open properly. "Missy?" he asked worriedly. "What's wrong? Have we landed again?"

He began to sit up, but Missy put a reassuring hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. "No, that's all fine."

"Oh." He wasn't really sure what to say next, how to continue, as he had no idea why she was even there in the first place. "Did… you need something?" He shifted uncomfortably, realizing that he was in a rather compromising position.

 _Just say it!_ Missy screamed internally, while on the outside, she could barely get through a word without tripping up. Right now, all she found herself able to say was, "You win."

The Doctor's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"You win," she repeated, gaining confidence now that she had finally begun her speech. "Your little friend was right. I don't have amnesia; I never did. It was all a trick, but… it didn't work. You win."

She expected the Doctor to be angry, maybe to chase her out of the TARDIS, back to her own. She expected him to run away from her, like he always did in the end, leaving her yet again to drift aimlessly through the universe, alone.

But she didn't expect him to smile up at her like a smug child. "Is that all?"

Missy stared at him in disbelief. Why wasn't he upset? She had tried to sabotage everything he believed in, and now he just laid there like a careless ten year old, as though none of this even remotely bothered him.

She wanted him to be angry. And not like before, not when it was just for fun. She didn't want him to be angry just for the sake of seeing him suffer; she wanted him to be angry because, right now, it was the only emotion that made sense. He _should_ be angry with her. So if he wasn't, she'd just have to _make_ him angry with her.

"I set that trap with the Daleks." Still, his expression didn't change. "I landed us in the graveyard." If anything, his smug smile was growing as she talked. "I took us to Clara." Nothing. Finally, she snapped. "Well, go on then, throw me out! Imprison me! Do _something!_ I tried to trick you into giving up your moral code; _KILL ME!_ "

For the first time since she had started talking, the Doctor's face twisted into anger. "Don't ever say that," he growled, sitting up, "because I've come very close. I've _seen_ you die, and it's not something I want to think about ever again."

She felt a pang of guilt for even suggesting it. And for the Master, any form of guilt was rare. "Then be angry with me. Why are you so calm?"

"Because I already knew."

Missy froze, not sure if she should truly believe this. "What?"

"I knew you were faking," he shrugged.

"How?"

He scratched his head as he tried to recall the exact moment. "To be honest, I wasn't sure at first. I didn't trust you, and I knew it was probably a trick, but I couldn't be sure. Then, on that day when I tried to reach out to you telepathically, I saw your eyes. There's something in them—ambition, maybe—that's a dead giveaway. I knew you had to be lying."

He couldn't be serious. She had been so careful. Could she really have been thwarted by something as simple as that? "What about Clara, then? You told her you trusted me and not her."

"And I know you saw our conversation outside. You were at the scanner when I walked in. At that time, I explained that I knew you were faking, but I couldn't tell you that I knew, so you had to stay here."

"But _why?_ " she asked, getting more and more frustrated by the second. "You could've just dropped me off in my TARDIS and flown away, like you always do. What makes this time so different?"

Her words were stinging, and the effect they had on the Doctor was obvious. His face fell, but instead of lowering his gaze, his eyes bore into hers, betraying everything he felt. "Is that what you think of me?" he whispered. "That I would just run away when you need me?"

"That's just it," she began. "If you knew that I was lying, then why would you think I need you? I _don't_ have amnesia, remember?"

Now, he actually did avert his eyes, instead choosing to stare intently at his hands, which were fidgeting in his lap. "I don't know…" he sighed. "I just thought that… maybe there was a real reason you came here in the first place, that maybe you just needed the company. And I figured that as long as you were with me, I'd make sure you stayed out of any real trouble."

"Did _you_ need the company?" The question was not asked in her usual tone; there was no intent to mock or joke or harm, and there was nothing venomous in its delivery. It was a simple, innocent question, and she stared at the Doctor with those wide, crystal blue eyes as she waited for an answer.

He thought of millions of different ways to reply to this, a million lies and a million half-truths, but when he came right down to it, there was only one answer that was completely true, no embellishment needed. So now he reached up one hand to gently cup the side of her head, as he said, "Yes."

The Doctor leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her lips, but she replied hungrily, throwing her arms around his neck to draw him closer, closer. This took him by surprise, and for a moment, his arms flailed as he tried to recover. Finally, though, he responded, moving one hand to entangle in her hair, while the other wrapped around her waist, pulling her onto his lap. He opened his mouth to breathe in her sweet scent, the taste of Gallifrey, and he felt her tongue collide with his, causing him to pull her even closer.

At the same time, his mind reached out to hers, hoping to establish a connection, though he'd had no success in the past. But this time was different. This time, she opened the floodgates, and everything came rushing out, all her memories, emotions, thoughts. They all hit the Doctor at once, causing him to gasp.

And for a moment, he could only sit there, holding her in his arms, as he felt all the pain and anguish that she had faced, all that she'd suffered just to survive. He saw the insanity, the cruelty, the violence, displayed before him, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

Maybe they weren't so different, after all. He was just as broken, just as lonely. But he would occasionally find people who would help him forget all of that, at least for a little while. Missy, on the other hand, had no one. No one but him. And he so callously flew away every time she needed him, because violence was the best way she knew to get his attention, and it inevitably followed in her wake.

He brought his lips to hers more softly now, an act of love to show her that he was sorry for all those times he had left her behind, all those times she had felt abandoned. He trailed gentle kisses down her neck, pushing off her jacket so that he could reach her collarbone, to skim his tongue along her soft, smooth skin.

When she felt his teeth start to dig in, she let out a gasp, and he smiled, sitting up to face her now. "I think you might need to change your name after this," he joked. "Not really the 'Master' anymore, are you?"

"Shut up," she said, pulling him roughly into another kiss.

When the Doctor found that he was finally able to speak again, he continued. "But you'll always be my Koschei."

"My Thete," she smiled deviously as they fell back into the bed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to everyone who has made it to this, the final chapter!**

The next morning, the Doctor awoke to find Missy wrapped in his arms, her head resting against his bare chest. The room was quiet, and he discovered that between her slow, even breaths, he could hear the four-beat pattern of her hearts. It was strange to think that the same rhythm that had once driven her insane could be so sweet to his own ears.

Now, Missy stirred slightly, and the Doctor let his thoughts slip into her mind, sending her every happy memory, every warm feeling he knew.

She opened her eyes slowly, a contented smile gracing her lips. Her hair—which was usually so tidy, piled atop her head—was draped around her face, framing it beautifully. "Good morning, Doctor."

As he stared down at her, he couldn't help but remember everything that had happened the night before. "Sleep well?" he asked shakily.

She laughed at this, and moved one hand to trace slow circles on his chest. "Well, now, you of all people should know the answer to that."

His face blushed a bright red. "Yes, well, we should probably start figuring out what to do next."

"Oh, Doctor," she grinned. "I like the way you think."

She leaned up to kiss him, but he only replied with a short, gentle peck. "Not like that," he said, sliding out of the bed and beginning to pull on his clothes. "I mean, we need to talk about what _you're_ going to do."

Missy watched as he dressed, but she didn't move to get up. "Aw, but that's no fun," she teased, giving him her best pouty face.

"Life isn't always fun." Finally, he pulled on his jacket, then walked to the door.

"Wait!" Missy called. "Aren't you going to help me get dressed?"

He gulped. She always knew exactly what to say to make him blush. "Do you…" He cleared his throat. "Do you _need_ help?"

"I guess I don't _need_ help," she began, winding him up. "Of course, if you _want_ to help…"

"Fine," he sighed, walking back towards Missy, who was smiling triumphantly.

It took significantly longer for her to get dressed with his help than if she had done it by herself, but she had to admit, it was infinitely more entertaining this way. The Doctor fumbled around with everything—buttoning the wrong button, lacing her corset incorrectly—so that he often had to undo his work and start again. If she hadn't known any better, she would have said he was doing it on purpose, not that she minded.

Eventually, however, once they were both fully dressed, they made their way to the console room. The Doctor immediately began pulling levers and pressing buttons, obviously piloting them somewhere.

"Where are we going?" Missy asked, watching his every movement, and silently noting all the things he was doing wrong.

The Doctor didn't answer; his expression was solemn and worn. At times like these, it was easy to see just how old he truly was.

But his silence was the only answer that Missy required. If he wouldn't tell her where they were going, there was only one place it could be.

"You're sending me back to my TARDIS." It was a statement, not a question, as she already knew she was right. "So all that talk about not leaving me was a lie." Her voice was incredulous, yet it was sharpened to a point that pierced straight through him with every word she said. "I guess you've become like me after all."

He froze in his tracks, one hand gripping a lever so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "What choice do I have?" he practically yelled, turning to her. "You don't want to travel with me, you don't want to tell me where Gallifrey is, so the only option left is to let you travel on your own."

"So you've decided that the best thing for you to do is to let a dangerous psychopath go free?"

He'd already thought about this, but it was odd that she was bringing it up at all. He had assumed that she would resent being "imprisoned" with him, as she had once put it. So why was she trying to persuade him otherwise?

"Okay, what do _you_ want to do?" he sighed, holding up his hands in surrender.

She took a moment to think about it before answering. "Do you remember… what I said in the graveyard, when you were about to kill me?"

He cringed. Not kill. Never kill. "What, do you mean that nonsense about finding Gallifrey together?"

She nodded. "Think about it: I know where it is, and you don't. Your only hope of finding it is to take me with you." To her satisfaction, she could tell that he was actually considering this. "Besides," she added, smoothing the deal, "I can't do any _real_ damage under your watch, now can I?"

The Doctor looked her in the eye. She didn't appear to be lying. Then again, he'd thought she was telling the truth the last time she said she knew where Gallifrey was. For a moment, he wondered why she hadn't just stayed there herself. But there must have been a reason she'd left. After all, she was a traitor to Rassilon and to the people.

"Alright," he finally answered reluctantly. "I guess you could stay for a bit longer. I'll have a lot to explain to Clara, but I can deal with all that later."

"On one condition," she added.

"Shouldn't _I_ be the one at liberty to make conditions?"

She ignored him and continued. "If we find Gallifrey, you can't let them lock me up."

"But… you're a criminal," he replied. "That's probably the first thing they'll do when we step out of the TARDIS."

"I think you can probably guess what will happen to me if they put me in prison."

The Doctor cringed as he thought about just how ruthless the Time Lords could be, and how much they surely hated the Master.

"Promise me," Missy said, interrupting his thoughts.

He took her hand securely in his, a sign that he wouldn't let her go, and that he would put up a fight to keep her by his side. "I promise."

"Well, then," she smiled, moving to the console to type in coordinates, "what are we waiting for?"

With that, they set off in search of the planet that had once been their home, the planet where they had existed as best friends, before the war ripped apart everything they'd loved.

But all that pain and destruction was behind them now, because they refused to see Gallifrey as it was during the war. It was much easier to remember the days when they were happy and safe and careless, the days when they were together. Because now, that was all that really mattered. The Doctor was willing to fight the Time Lords in order to defend Missy, because he loved her. He truly loved her, and he wasn't afraid to admit that to himself anymore.

And as he stood there, holding her hand in his, he never wanted to let her go again. Unfortunately, he would probably have to at some point. That was the worst part of their dynamic, the inevitability of their separation.

But for now, they were together.

For now, they could pretend that everything was like old times again.

For now, they were happy.

 **Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!**


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